


A Winter's Tale

by yalejosie



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 05:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yalejosie/pseuds/yalejosie
Summary: Crowley decides to be cold with company,  and Aziraphale knits a sweaterTitle from a the Queen song of the same name, bc it isnt a good omens fic if the title isnt Queen related





	A Winter's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> *guess who's back, back again*
> 
> *looks at four month absence* ..... yikes!!!! OMO
> 
> So yeah hello I'm back from the dead!!! *kazoo noises*
> 
> Hope you like this fic, it's my first one for the Good Omens fandom!!!!! I honestly giggled with glee the entire time I wrote this!
> 
> (If ur someone who's read my other fics, pls read the end notes)

Demons were not supposed to shiver.

This is what Crowley angrily repeated to himself as he huffily sat in his large chair in his freezing cold apartment. If there was only one good thing about Hell, was that it never got this cold. Demons were much like reptiles, in that they were cold blooded and did very poorly in places that weren't tropical in temperature if not locale.

Crowley could've just sat through the blizzard, but the cold was making him too twitchy to sit. So he decided that if he was going to be cold, then he was going to be cold with company. Crowley pulled on the heaviest thing he owned, a leather jacket, and left his apartment to drive to Aziraphale's.

\---

Aziraphale was a big fan of winter. It was the time of year of making some hot cocoa and reading a good book while the whole world was coated in white. 

That was precisely what Aziraphale was doing when he heard a large knock from the door. Aziraphale assumed it was a person who was going to try and buy one of his books, as he was not expecting company. But when Aziraphale opened the door, what greeted him was the sight of Crowley looking more cold and miserable than Aziraphale has ever seen him.

Aziraphale was terribly concerned, of course, but the sight of Crowley bundled up in nothing more than a leather jacket, and with the face of a cat who has just had a bath, did give him a bit of a laugh. Aziraphale stifled his giggles before saying, "Crowley! Would you like to come in? You look awfully cold out there."

Crowley gave Aziraphale a grateful look and said, "That would be nice, Angel. It's bloody freezing out here."

\---

The storm raged on outside the windows, but inside the world was peaceful. Crowley had taken over the large, worn leather couch that had been at the shop since it had opened, sinking into the cushions as if he was pudding, so Aziraphale sat on one of the other couches with a good book and a nice hot cup of hot cocoa. Aziraphale had offered Crowley a cup when he first made it to the shop, and Crowley had accepted and drank every last drop. The now empty cup sat at the edge of the table, little remnants of whipped cream settling at the bottom of the cup.

The lovely thing about knowing someone for so long was that even when you didn't have any thoughts or news to share, you could share silence. Humans had shared silence much more in the beginning of time, when there was still little to talk about besides how well the barley was growing, or much to do besides wait for things to grow. As society had progressed, silence was now a commodity no one could share, as no one had the time to be silent alone, let alone share precious silence with a companion. Luckily, Aziraphale and Crowley had both the memory of how to share silence, and the time to do it. 

So that was how the evening passed with relative peace, Aziraphale enjoying his book, and Crowley half dozing on the sofa. As the storm wore on, it seemed to be getting worse and worse, so Aziraphale offered to let Crowley stay the night. 

"Crowley, this storm appears to be getting worse by the second. Would you like to stay for the night?"

Crowley, still half asleep, picked himself off the couch and started to head for the door, mumbling, " 'M fine, angel. Thanks for letting me stay for the evening."

But when Crowley opened the door to exit the shop, a large gust of snow and wind flew into the shop, practically slapping Crowley in the face. 

Thoroughly woken up (thanks to the rude snowstorm brewing outside), Crowley promptly closed the door and said to Aziraphale, "Maybe I should stay after all."

Aziraphale gave a knowing smile, and replied kindly, "It's alright, dear. I don't think you could get home in this kind of weather. You can have the couch for tonight."

As soon as Crowley's head hit the couch, he was out like a light. This was very strange, because Aziraphale knew that Crowley did not truly fall asleep that often. The whole night had been a bit strange, honestly. Even at his most lazy, Crowley was usually at least a little talkative, but tonight he had been almost dead silent. Aziraphale wondered if something was wrong with Crowley, then had a realization. Since Crowley was a snake in his true form, he was  _ cold blooded, even in his human body.  _ No wonder he had been so sluggish, reptiles usually hibernated during the winter!

Aziraphale wanted to make poor Crowley's life a little easier, and mused on different things he could do. First thing to do was get a blanket for the demon, which Aziraphale did, draping a large fluffy blanket over Crowley's sleeping body.

Then, Aziraphale adjusted the thermostat he had in the shop. He usually had it set to a chilly temperature during the winter to deter customers from going into the shop, but Aziraphale turned it up as far as it went in an effort to warm Crowley up.

Aziraphale planned on giving Crowley some hot cocoa as soon as he woke up, so he made sure he had some hot milk and cocoa powder.

Still, Aziraphale didn't feel like he was doing enough. The solution came to him in the form of a sharp knock on the door.

Aziraphale went over to the shop entrance, hoping with all his might that it wasn't a customer. Unfortunately, his prayers were thrown into the trash heap when he saw an annoying woman at the front door.

"Excuse me sir, is this bookshop open? I need to get a present for my cousin Patty's wedding anniversary…."

As Aziraphale tried to (politely) tell her that the shop was closed, he noticed her dog, who was smaller than the average teacup and shaking slightly, was wearing a small woolen sweater.

A metaphorical lightbulb shined above Aziraphale's head.

As soon as Aziraphale (finally) convinced the woman to leave, he made a beeline for the back of the shop. He was sure that he had some crocheting supplies somewhere back there, as he had been quite a fan of crafts during the 1950's.

Aziraphale found the supplies, and settled into his small sofa for a long night of knitting. 

As the storm howled that night, all that could be heard was Crowley's soft snores and the clicking of knitting needles.

\---

A few hours before morning dawned, Crowley was woken up by a gentle voice.

"Crowley, dear, could you do me a favor?"

Crowley sleepily responded, "Yeah, Angel. What do you need?"

Aziraphale cleared his throat awkwardly, and said, "Could you get into your snake form for me? I'm trying my best to warm you up, and I think I may have something that could help."

Crowley was too cold and sleepy to properly think about it, so he shrugged, turned into a snake, and started falling back asleep.

As Crowley fell back asleep, he could hear Aziraphale kindly whisper, "Thank you, my dear."

\---

When Crowley woke up, the storm had broken. Fresh winter sunshine streamed into bookshop, and Crowley felt a comfortable warmth enveloping him. He had hazy memories of the night before, and was about to stand up and find Aziraphale when he realized he was in snake form. But why? A minute later, Crowley realized that he felt fabric (?) against his scales. Upon closer inspection, he found he was wearing a  _ sweater. _

At that moment, Aziraphale decided to stroll into the room.

"Good morning, Crowley!" Aziraphale said cheerfully. "How did you sleep?"

Crowley, being a snake, hissed his reply.

"Yes, yes, I slept fine, don't worry Angel. But how did I get into this sweater?"

Aziraphale smiled with glee, and replied, "Well, you seemed like you were awfully cold, so I knitted you a little sweater! I figured if you were in snake form, it would be a bit easier for you to warm up, and it looks like I was right! You look good as new!"

Crowley, simply put, internally combusted. He was torn between feelings of thankfulness, embarrassment, and some others he immediately shoved into his subconscious. On the one hand, it had been very thoughtful of Aziraphale to knit him a sweater. On the other hand, if demons weren't supposed to get cold, then they were probably doubly not supposed to wear sweaters.

Crowley had just decided to act as if this whole affair was business as usual (it wasn't), when Aziraphale hurriedly said, "Wait right here! Be right back!"

As Aziraphale bent over his small sofa to get something, Crowley changed back into his (much more comfortable) human form.

Then, Aziraphale pulled out a fluffy, oversized woolen sweater. It was the kind of sweater that a grandmother would make for their preteen. It was at this moment that out of sheer surprise, the sane part of Crowley's brain packed up and left town.

"I thought you could wear this if it gets too cold in your apartment again, and you can't get to the bookshop, for whatever reason." Aziraphale said kindly. "It's very fluffy and warm."

Usually, Crowley would try and act cool, but as that demeanor had been totally thrown out the window, he replied, "Thank you, Angel. I'm sure I'll use this."

Aziraphale seemed a little surprised at Crowley's genuine reply, and smiled widely before saying, "Fancy a cup of cocoa?"

\---

It wasn't until about twelve in the afternoon that Crowley left Aziraphale's bookshop. The crowds were once again bustling outside the bookshop, and Crowley slipped into them with ease as he made his way to the parked Bentley. Crowley, on a later day, would swear up and down this wasn't true. But you could see him wearing a large, fluffy sweater as he left the shop, and also see that the demon's cheeks were a tiny bit red with pleasure.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so, about Atlas Adventures 
> 
> I got a ton of hate for it, and even though I poured a lot of myself into it, I decided to stop writing it for the sake of my mental health. If anyone ever expressed real interest in more chapters being written, I might write them. But most likely not. For everyone who was nice, thank you for all of your encouragement. For all the meanies, congrats, you discouraged a young author from writing online, so what do you do now? Because unfortunately for you, I'm not going anywhere ever again lmao


End file.
